The Broom Closet
by Hallmark Girl
Summary: What happens when Ron and Hermione are stuck inside a broom closet?
1. He Said

A/N:  My first attempt at fanfic.  Please don't hurt me!

Disclaimer:  It JK's.  I no JK.

****

**The Broom Closet**

_By A.G. Wednesday_

-

Ron's Point of View

---

As much as I love Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it's pretty much on my hate list right now.  Not that I actually *have* a hate list, but if I did, Hogwarts would be right up there at the top, third only to Draco Malfoy and the Chudley Cannons' indefinite losing streak.  Why the sudden change in attitude, you ask?  It's very simple.

Lately I've been finding things throughout the castle that I believe to be very odd.  For instance, did you know that the Slytherin Prefects' bathroom is twice the size of Gryffindor's?  Or that more money is spent each year funding the library than maintaining the Quiddtich pitch?  Or course you didn't, because unlike *some* people, you haven't memorized the whole of Hogwarts, A History.  Ahem.  But anway.  Moving on.  It's the most recent of my discoveries that really has me baffled.  

There is a broom closet on the second floor that (1) has no brooms in it, or anything for that matter, and (2) automatically locks when you shut the door.

Ordinarily, such an abnormality would go unnoticed by me, as I am almost always too engrossed in Quidditch, chess, or Hermione um, Quidditch again, to really pay attention to the locking habits of janitorial storage.

But that is not the case this time, or else this would be an obscenely short story.  No, I did not have a clue about the existence of this purposeless broom closet before today.  So how, then, do I know about it now?

Simple.  Because I am locked in it.

Yes, that's right, I am locked in a broom closet.  I am not, however, alone.  That would probably be a better scenario, to tell you the truth.  But no.  I am locked in this tiny little broomless closet with none other than Hermione Granger.  (A/N:  Shame on you if you didn't see that coming!)

Don't get me wrong- under any other circumstances, being in a broom closet with Hermione would hardly upset me.  But right now, she's a bit angry with me.  No, not angry… FURIOUS is more like it.

It all started about forty-five minutes ago…

---Flashback---

Me, Harry, and Hermione ("It's Harry, Hermione, and I!") were all in the Common Room.  Harry and I (is that better?!) were having a heated game of wizard's chess (I was kicking his bloody arse) and Hermione was buried under a mound of books and parchment, studying for the all-important N.E.W.T.S.

"Checkmate!" I cried victoriously, grinning smugly at Harry.

"You win.  Again."  Harry sighed, and leaned back in his chair in defeat.

"You up for another game?" I asked hopefully, but Harry just shook his head.

"No, thanks, I think I feel sufficiently inferior for today," he replied, gathering his chessmen and standing up with a yawn.  "Besides, I have Quidditch practice in ten minutes, and I still have to finish my Potions essay."  He went upstairs and disappeared into the boys dormitory.

Sighing, I turned to look at Hermione.  She had three books open, and appeared to be reading them simultaneously.  Quill in hand, she scanned the pages until she found a useful bit of information.  Her eyes lit up and she bit her bottom lip, scribbling furiously but neatly on a long roll of parchment.

_"I love it when she does that,"_ I thought to myself.

"_Does what?  Reads?"_ my conscience scoffed.

_"No, bites her lip,"_ I replied.

Whoa, now.  Not only had a I just thought non-platonic things about my best friend, but now I'm a borderline schizophrenic?  I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind.

"Hey, 'Mione, how 'bout a game of chess?"

She looked up at me, frowning.

"Not now, Ron, I'm studying, which is what you should be doing as well.  And where'd that come from?"

I ignored her nagging and asked, confused, "Where'd *what* come from?"

"That name you just called me."

Crap.  Did I just call her that out *loud* ?  Crap, crap, CRAP.

"Oh, uh, you don't like it?" I mumbled, feeling my ears go instantly pink.  Her features softened.

"No, I didn't say that, it's just…"  
  


"Doesn't Vicky ever call you by a nickname?" I asked, then immediately wished I hadn't.

"Don't call him Vicky," she admonished, frowning.

I honestly don't know what came over me, but CURSE my temper, because I suddenly became quite defensive and angry.

"I'll call him whatever the hell I want to!"  Stop, Ron.  Don't do this!

"Ron!  Don't swear!"  I didn't listen.  I never do.

"Why?  Vicky swears all the time and you never give a damn when he does it-"

"Stop it!  I don't want to have this conversation with you!" she interrupted, her anger very apparent.

"So you're saying it's ok for him to do it, but not me?"  Ron, shut your mouth!  Don't yell at her!  Don't talk!  

Hermione stood.  "You know that's not what I mean-"

"It is TOO what you mean and you damn well know it!"  Holy crap.  What am I doing?

"Stop swearing!" she cried, clearly hacked off now.  "It's rude to swear in front of a lady!"

I snorted.  "Oh, is that what you are?  I never can tell, with that hair of yours and all those books you lug around."

Hermione froze, as though she had been slapped in the face.  Tears formed in her eyes and she immediately flung open the portrait hole and stormed out into the hall.

I mentally kicked myself for saying such terrible things to her.  I hesitated only a millisecond before I followed her into the corridor.

"Hermione, wait, I-" she began running now, and I quickened my pace.

"Please, stop!  I'm really-" I began again, but she hurried down the staircase and onto the second floor.  I groaned and began to jog after her.

"Hermione, look, I'm really, REALLY-" but she had opened the door to a classroom and stepped inside.  I was right on her heels.

"Hermio-"

"Ron, leave." She said it with such finality that I slumped my shoulders in defeat and grabbed the doorknob.  I turned it slowly, still debating whether or not I should leave her, but it wouldn't budge.  What the hell?  I tried once more, but the handle was absolutely stuck.  Either that, or the door was locked.

"It's locked," I mumbled, puzzled.  Hermione groaned and tried it herself.  No luck.  She whispered "Lumos" and a small light appeared at the end of her wand to reveal our whereabouts.  It wasn't a classroom at all, but a…

"Broom closet?" I asked, surprised.  We were standing in a very small space.  I had a feeling that the reason nothing was stored in here was because nothing could *fit* in here.

"Great," she muttered.

I second that.

---End Flasback---

It's been more than thirty minutes now, and she still hasn't spoken to me.  I'm a little bit bored, not to mention frightened.  I have never heard Hermione be silent for such an extended period of time.

This wasn't good.  This wasn't good at all.

"Gee, ya THINK?" my conscience said sarcastically.  Great.  By the time this is all over, I'll be a full-fledged schizophrenic.  And last time I checked, that doesn't help too much with the ladies.

Sighing, I began to drum my fingers against the wall, wondering what I could possibly say to elicit her forgiveness. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap tap tap.  I had a pretty good rhythm going when Hermione shot me a murderous glance.

"Sorry," I mumbled.  And then it hit me.  I could apologize!  I opened my mouth to do just that when another realization hit me.  

I had never apologized to her before.  Not once.  And if I did now, she would know something was up.  Hell, she was the cleverest which in the school- she'd see right through my façade and know the truth- that I'm in love with her.

Hold up… WHAT?!  Oh, right.  I guess I am.

I chanced a glance (well done on the poetry there, Ronniekins) in her direction and, even though the lighting was minimal, could still see the tear stains on her face.  And she was crying silently once more.

It was a risk I had to take.

"Hermione, I am so sorry." 

There.  I did it.

Hermione whipped around to face me and I winced, preparing myself for the lecture that was sure to follow.  But she didn't yell.  In fact, she just stared at me in awe.  

It creeped me out.

"That's the first time you've done that," she whispered, the surprise in her voice unmistakable.

"Yeah, er, well… I mean it.  I am very sorry for what I said," I replied quietly.  Hermione drew back her arm and I thought for a second that she was going to slap me.  But instead, she gave me a hug.

"Thank you," she mumbled into my jumper.  I was too stunned to respond, so I just hugged her tightly in return.  I buried my face in her hair, which smelled faintly of shampoo.  Taking a deep breath, I breathed in her scent.  She was intoxicating.  After a few moments she looked up at me with a questioning look.  It was then I realized that I had been subconsciously rubbing her back, in an effort to comfort her and calm her down.  I jerked my hands away and shoved them into my robes.

"S-sorry," I croaked, my face turning a deep scarlet.  Geez, this was embarrassing.

Hermione just nodded and closed her eyes, as though she were preparing herself for something.  When she opened them, she looked at me once more.

"Ron," she began slowly, "Why do you hate Viktor Krum so much?"

Those words hit me harder than steaming locomotive.  WHAT?!  What did she mean by that?  Why do I hate Viktor Krum so much?  I can't answer that!  I CANNOT answer that!  There's no way I'm answ-

"Because he's so much older than you," I heard myself say.  "He's old enough to make love potions, Hermione- he could be doing that to make you love him!"

Ok, quick question.  What the HELL did I just do?

Hermione snorted.  "Well, he's not doing a very good job then," she replied.

"What?" I asked, now thoroughly confused by the situation unfolding.

"Ron, contrary to what you might believe, I am *not* in love with Viktor Krum."

Whoa.  She's not?

"You're not?" I squeaked.  Smooth, Weasley.  Very smooth.

She laughed softly.  "Not in the least bit.  In fact, I find him rather annoying.  Nice guy, but he sure does talk about Quidditch too much."  I could only stare.

We sat in silence for a moment that felt more like an eternity.  It was Hermione who finally spoke.

"So that's why you hate him?  Because you're afraid he's seducing me with a potion?"

Say yes, my brain screamed.  Dammit Weasley, say yes, and this is all over!  But my heart had different ideas.

"No."

Crap.

She looked at me quizzically, silently urging me to continue.

Oh boy.  This is *not* good.  I cannot tell her!  I CANNOT TELL HER!

"Well-" I began, then paused.  Oh, what the hell.  If I'm gonna do it, I might as well do it right.  "I was jealous.  Of him.  Because he got to share a part of your life that I knew I never would.  And it upset me quite a bit because… because I think you are the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful girl on this planet.  Everything I said earlier was to cover up my feelings, because I knew you could never reciprocate them.  And you're gonna hate me for saying this, but I am so bloody in love with you that I can't see straight."

There.  I'd said it.  It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders… but now I was terrified of her response.  I don't know who was more shocked that I'd done it- me or Hermione.  I stood frozen to the spot, suddenly very aware of how small this broom closet was and not doubting for a single second that I was clausterphobic.

Hermione, her eyes wide, took a step toward me and closed the gap between us.  I was once again struck with the notion that she was going to slap me, and I closed my eyes to brace myself.    
  


What have you done, Weasley?

"Ron?" she said softly.

"Yeah?"  I mumbled, scared to death of her next words, whatever they might be.

"Don't swear."  And she cupped my face in her hands and kissed me gently on the lips.

Words cannot explain what I felt at that moment.  A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, most of them focused on the fact that, hey, I was kissing Hermione!

I'm kissing Hermione!  I am kissing my best friend!  

I moved my hands to her hips and drew her closer.  Her hands were now in my hair, pulling me closer as well.  She sighed against my mouth as I lazily traced circles on her arms with my fingertips.  Quite frankly, I was ready to forget about Quidditch for life and, for the rest of my life, focus all of my attention on the gorgeous girl in front of me.

Hermione pulled away after a few seconds, and both of us tried to catch our breaths.

"So you don't hate me?"  I asked stupidly.  

Hermione grinned.  "Nope.  And you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you too."

Now THAT was good to hear.  I don't think I've ever felt so joyous in my entire life.  Except, of course, for that kiss.  

The Kiss, as I will now affectionately call it.  

I smiled back at Hermione and pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Now if we could only get out of this closet…" I trailed off.

Hermione gave me the sweetest smile and whipped out her wand once more.

"Alohomora," she muttered, and the door flew open.  I stared at her, my mouth agape.

"And why didn't you do that before?" I asked with mock anger.

"Ron, think about what just happened, and then try re-evaluating your choice of words."

I thought for a moment, then grinned at her.

"Hermione, thank you so much for allowing us to spend such quality time together in  a broom closet." 

"Much better," she replied, and tucked her hand into mine.  Together, we stepped out of the broom closet and headed back to civilization.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Hermione said.

"What is it?"

"Did you use the word 'reciprocate'?"  

---

By the way, have I mentioned lately how much I *love* Hogwarts?  Especially this one broom closet, on the second floor…

-end-

---

See that review box down there?  Feed me, Seymour!  

I'm thinking of doing a sequel, from Hermione's PoV.  If I get reviews on this one, that is…   Thanks for reading!  

-A.G.


	2. She Said

A/N:  Thanks to Dark Midnightstar, Shadow Mouse, poeticlilshygurl, Cult of the Cynical Giant Cow, Tears from the Moon, Mione, CurlsofGold, Oppy, Digital Damita, Margarita Mocha, Tamashii, potterfan4life, kittychild, and Brittany for reviewing.  I really appreciate it, guys!

Disclaimer:  It JK's.  I no JK.

****

**The Broom Closet**

_By A.G. Wednesday_

-

Hermione's Point of View

---

I love Hogwarts.  I really do.  There's just something about its atmosphere- something about its presence- that just feels so…

Magical?

Well, of course it's magical.  It is, after all, a school of witchcraft.  But aside from the obvious reasons, it really is an enchanting place.

I am always finding new things I love about Hogwarts.  For instance, and don't tell Ron or Harry this, but did you know that they spend more money on the library than the Quidditch pitch?  This school really knows how to prioritize, even if *some* of its students don't.

As much as I'd love to say that Hogwarts is utterly flawless (and believe me, I wish I could), I have found a few flies in the ointment.  The main one is, of course, the tendency for bad things to happen throughout the school year.  True, it has the adventuresome appeal, what with the three-headed dogs, the secret chamber that hides a murderous beast, and the former teachers who just happened to be creatures of the night or Death Eaters in disguise.  

But danger is still danger.  

Besides the danger issue, and the fact that they enslave house elves, the only other problem I have with Hogwarts is its waste of space.  Like, for instance, the so-called broom closet on the second floor that stores absolutely nothing.  Why they have an empty closet when there is a shortage of book space in the library is beyond me.  

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that if I'm such a bookworm, how do I know about this broomless closet?

It's rather embarrassing actually.  Well, you see, it's because I'm stuck in it.  With Ron.  Which usually wouldn't be a big deal, if it weren't for the fact that I am absolutely furious at him.  So instead of simply shooting the breeze while we wait for help, I am ignoring him.  I'm not be irrational about it either- he deserves the silent treatment.

It all started about forty-five minutes ago…

---Flashback---

I was sitting in the Common Room, pretending to study for the N.E.W.T.S while I was secretly watching Ron massacre Harry in their current game of wizard's chess.

"Checkmate!" I heard Ron shout, and I gave a small smile.  _Cocky prat_, I thought to myself, grinning.

Ron asked Harry to play another game, but he politely declined and went upstairs to the boys' dormitory.

After Harry left I returned to my studying.  It wasn't long before I felt Ron looking at me.

_Pretend you don't notice, pretend you don't notice_, I silently chanted.  But it was becoming extremely hard to keep in focus when he was staring at me so intently.

"Hey, 'Mione, how 'bout a game of chess?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

Whoa.  He'd never called me *that* before!  My heart began to pound as I desperately tried to keep my composure.  Why did he always do this to me?  How is it that with one word he can make me lose my train of thought?

"Not now, Ron, I'm studying, which is what you should be doing as well."  Phew.  Safe answer.  "And where'd that come from?"

Why did I just ask him that?  WHY?!

He was obviously confused.   "Where'd *what* come from?"

Oh Weasley, like you don't know.  "That name you just called me."

He blushed a deep scarlet, and my heart beat still faster.  He was embarrassed?  Did that mean…?

"Oh, uh, you don't like it?" he mumbled, and I suddenly felt bad for putting him on the spot.

"No, I didn't say that, it's just…"  
  


"Doesn't Vicky ever call you by a nickname?" he asked.

Lord al-friggin-mighty, WHY did he go and bring *him* up again?  

"Don't call him Vicky," I immediately scolded, frowning again.  _Why does he always come up?_

It was as if someone had flicked a switch in Ron's behavior, causing him to go from "calm" to "extremely pissed off" in .2 seconds.

"I'll call him whatever the hell I want to!" 

"Ron!  Don't swear!"  _Hermione, don't nag!_  I told myself.  _Stop nagging him to death!_

"Why?  Vicky swears all the time and you never give a damn when he does it-"

"Stop it!  I don't want to have this conversation with you!" I interrupted him, extremely angry that he was able to push my buttons like this.  

"So you're saying it's ok for him to do it, but not me?"   

I stood up.  "You know that's not what I mean-"

"It is TOO what you mean and you damn well know it!"  

What is he doing?  Why is he doing this to me?

"Stop swearing!" I cried, furious at his outbursts.  "It's rude to swear in front of a lady!"

He snorted.  "Oh, is that what you are?  I never can tell, with that hair of yours and all those books you lug around."

That stung like no tomorrow.  Though I always prided myself on being the strong and confident type, I felt tears forming in my eyes and I did *not* want to cry in front of him.  So I flung open the portrait hole and escaped to the emptiness of the corridor.

"Hermione, wait, I-"

Darn it!  He's following me!  I began to run now, hoping that he would give up.

"Please, stop!  I'm really-" he began again, but I hurried down the staircase and onto the second floor. 

Yup.  He was still following her.

"Hermione, look, I'm really, REALLY-" but I opened the door to what I thought was a classroom and stepped inside.  He was right on my heels.

"Hermio-"

"Ron, leave." I said with finality.  I did not want to be around him right then- not when I was so vulnerable to his hurtful words.

He sighed and opened the door to leave.  Or at least, he *tried* to open the door and leave.

"It's locked," I heard him say, and I groaned.  Quickly, I tried it myself.  It still wouldn't budge.  So I pulled out my wand and muttered "Lumos", revealing the "classroom".  

_Wait a second_, I thought._  This isn't a classroom, it's a…_

"Broom closet?" Ron asked, obviously shocked.  Well, no wonder there was nothing in here.  There wasn't exactly a lot of room, given the fact that two people could barely stand side by side without hitting elbows.

"Great," I muttered.

---End Flashback---

It's been probably thirty minutes and neither one of us has said a word.  I don't know what I expect him to do- it's not like he's going to apologize or anything- but I wish he would just say something, anything, to keep me from screaming in frustration.

 "Well sweetheart, I think you made it pretty clear earlier that you don't want to talk to him," my conscience said smugly. 

I couldn't argue with that.

Ron sighed and began drumming an impossibly annoying rhythm on the wall. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap tap tap.  

_Wow, let's see if you could possibly irritate me any MORE!_   

He must've seen the look I gave him, because he immediately stopped.

"Sorry," he mumbled.  

Well, he'd better be!  It's his fault we're in here in the first place!  Ron opened his mouth to say something but promptly shut it.

I hate it when I cry, I really do, but I couldn't help it.  The tears welled up in my eyes and I didn't try to stop them this time. 

_Why does he always do this?  Why does he always make me doubt everything I feel?_

"Hermione, I am so sorry." 

Whoa.  What did he just say?  What did he JUST SAY?!

I whirled around to face him and he visibly winced.  I could do nothing but stare.  _Did Ron Weasley just apologize to me?_  I must've been looking at him for quite a while because he looked somewhat freaked out.

"That's the first time you've done that," I whispered, hearing the surprise in my own voice.

"Yeah, er, well… I mean it.  I am very sorry for what I said," he replied quietly.  

He meant it!  He meant what he said!

Slowly, and not without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him in an unmistakable hug.

"Thank you," I mumbled into his shoulder.  He said nothing in response, but simply hugged me tightly in return.  I buried my face in his jumper, breathing in his soapy scent.  He was intoxicating.  All of the sudden, I felt Ron's hands rubbing my back.

Oh lord.

To have this much of his attention was starting to make me weak in the knees.  Did this mean what I thought it meant?

I looked up at him, my eyes questioning his actions.  He must've just realized what he was doing because he jerked his hands away and shoved them into his pockets.

I nearly whimpered at the absence of his touch.  It left me feeling… cold.

"S-sorry," he managed, turning scarlet. 

_I don't care!  I liked it!  Hug me again!_  I thought, but said nothing.  I simply nodded and closed my eyes, preparing myself to ask the one question I'd been dying to know since last year's Yule Ball.

"Ron," I began slowly, "Why do you hate Viktor Krum so much?"

_I can't believe I just asked him that!_  Apparently, he was having trouble processing it too, because it took him a while to answer.

"Because he's so much older than you," he replied.  "He's old enough to make love potions, Hermione- he could be doing that to make you love him!"

LOVE POTION?!  I nearly died on the spot from pent-up laughter.

I snorted.  "Well, he's not doing a very good job then!"

"What?" he asked, obviously confused.

Oh, you poor boy.  How can you NOT know that it's *you* I love?

"Ron, contrary to what you might believe, I am *not* in love with Viktor Krum."

Ron's eyes widened.

"You're not?" he squeaked.  

_Duh, you fool!_

I laughed softly.  "Not in the least bit.  In fact, I find him rather annoying.  Nice guy, but he sure does talk about Quidditch too much."  He stared.

We sat in silence for a moment that felt more like an eternity.  It was I who finally got the nerve to speak.

"So that's why you hate him?  Because you're afraid he's seducing me with a potion?"

Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say no… 

"No."

YEEEEESSSS!!! 

I supressed the urge to do a victory dance.  Instead, I gave a small nod, willing him to continue.

"Well-" he began, then paused.  

_Oh no you don't, Ron!  Don't chicken out now!  Just SAY IT!!!_ My brain screamed.

"I was jealous.  Of him.  Because he got to share a part of your life that I knew I never would.  And it upset me quite a bit because… because I think you are the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful girl on this planet.  Everything I said earlier was to cover up my feelings, because I knew you could never reciprocate them.  And you're gonna hate me for saying this, but I am so bloody in love with you that I can't see straight."

OH.  MY.  GOD.

Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Did Ron… RON WEASLEY, her BEST friend, just say those wonderful things?  I'm in love with you too!  I wanted to shout.

But instead I took a step toward him and closed the gap between us.  He flinched and closed his eyes.  

"Ron?" I said softly.

"Yeah?"  he mumbled, his voice fearful.

"Don't swear."  And with all of the bravery I could muster, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him gently on the lips.

Words cannot explain what I felt at that moment.  A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, most of them focused on the fact that, hey, I was kissing Ron!

I'm kissing Ron!  I am kissing my best friend!  

His hands moved to my hips and drew me closer.  I moved my hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer as well.  

Oh, wow.

I sighed against his mouth as he lazily traced circles on my arms with his fingertips.  Quite frankly, I was ready to forget about schoolwork and studying for life and, for the rest of my life, focus all of my attention on the adorable boy in front of me.

After a few seconds I pulled away, and both of us tried to catch our breaths.

"So you don't hate me?"  he asked stupidly.  

_You idiot_, I thought, grinning.

"Nope.  And you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you too."

Ron looked extremely relieved and smiled that goofy grin of his, pulling me into another warm embrace.

"Now if we could only get out of this closet…" he said.

I gave Ron an innocent smile and whipped out my wand once more.

"Alohomora," I muttered, and the door flew open.  He stared at me, his mouth agape.

"And why didn't you do that before?" he asked with mock anger.

"Ron, think about what just happened, and then try re-evaluating your choice of words."

He went silent for a moment, then grinned again.

"Hermione, thank you so much for allowing us to spend such quality time together in a broom closet." 

"Much better," I replied, and tucked my hand into his.  Together, we stepped out of the broom closet and headed back to civilization.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," I said.

"What is it?"

"Did you use the word 'reciprocate'?"  

---

Reason Why I Love Hogwarts #826:  the broom closet on the second floor

-end-

---

See that review box down there?  Feed me, Seymour!  

I'd just like to say that I realize this PoV is nowhere near as good as the first- it's hard to do a companion piece about the same storyline without sounding too redundant, yet with keeping good continuity.  These is merely another version of the same story.  Thanks for reading!  

-A.G.


End file.
